Bomber Witches: Holiday Operations
by RobertaMorgan
Summary: This category is for Bomber Witches stories that were made for a holiday theme, or did not make it into the main stories.
1. The Candy Bombers

**Bomber Witches: The Candy Bombers**

The year is 1948, and despite the official defeat of the Neuroi in Karlsland, there are pockets of resistance throughout the country. Those remnants sacrificed their bodies to create a great chasm, cutting right through the heart of Berlin, and separating the city in half. Those of West Berlin prospered with aid from the Allies, while the war refugees entombed within East Berlin were condemned to shuffle through the bombed out ruins of their war-torn city. Any who tried to escape to West Berlin were ruthlessly mutilated by roaming Neuroi patrols around the citywide division. The characteristic Neuroi smoke bellowed constantly from the chasm, creating a dark wall that prevented Berlin from seeing their loved ones. Strangely, the Neuroi never advanced beyond the chasm into West Berlin, although they were capable of doing so, and were content to simply defend what they believed was their side of Berlin. Though the Allies had not given up on East Berlin, relief aid by way of land and water had been met with fierce resistance, as the convoys and barges were destroyed by Neuroi patrols. But as the Allies had learned from their experience in war, there is always a way…

Beginning in late June 1948, the Liberion Air Force had launched a massive joint campaign with the Royal Brittanian Air Force to bring relief aid by air, dropping it to the East Berliners by parachute. This act of humanitarian aid was commonly known as the 'Berlin Airlift,' but was referred to by Liberion and Brittania as 'Operation Vittles' and 'Operation Plainfare,' respectively. Every day, C-54 Skymaster and Avro York transport planes would thunder over the city, and the refugees would cheer as crates of rations and emergency supplies parachuted down to earth. One such praised captain and savior of the impoverished was known as Colonel Abigail Halverson, a twenty-seven year old pilot in Liberion's Air Transport Command. Gail, as she was called by her crew, was an angelic girl from Utah, who had joined the Air Force in 1942 and went on to transport duties in the South Atlantic. She was later ordered to Karlsland for the Berlin Airlift, due to her compassion for the Karlslanders, and her proven piloting skills in cumbersome transport craft. Gail was a rather shy, compassionate girl with long, straight and blonde hair with swept bangs, periwinkle eyes, and the traditional grey uniform and corresponding hat of the Air Transport Command (ATC).

It was a frigid day at Berlin's Tempelhof Airfield in Karlsland, in September of 1948. Colonel Halvorsen's boots crunched in the frozen blades of grass, as she walked away from her C-54 Skymaster and onto the field. Gail pulled out her rather crude monochromatic video camera, and began recording the hundreds of planes touching down at Tempelhof. Scanning the view around her, she noticed that the barbed wire fences around the airport were lined with children. Young and old, short and tall, their youthful faces were filled with curiosity and wonder. Gail walked closer, smiling at the boys and girls as they eagerly asked questions about the planes and whether the airlift would continue. As time passed, she eluded that she needed to be on her way, before one of the young kids spoke up. "When the weather gets so bad that you can't land, don't worry about us. We can get by on a little food, but if we lose our freedom, we may never get it back." With a warm heart, Gail had but one question in her mind. Children that resided around Allied air bases were known to ask servicemen for candy, regardless of their situation. Yet here were these impoverished and war-torn young ones, and they asked for nothing, saying that their freedom was far more paramount.

Suddenly she remembered something, and began pulling out the rations in her jacket pocket. The children craned their necks curiously, as she revealed a chocolate bar and a few sticks of chewing gum. As the young ones looked on, she began breaking the chocolate into smaller pieces, and handing it to the kids through the spaces in the wire fencing. The same was done for the chewing gum, and they split it into even smaller strips so that everyone could get a small piece. Even those who could not get a piece were merely content to sniff the wrappers of the sugary treats. Gail smiled, it warmed her heart that even in times like these, there could be some optimism. An idea began to form in her mind, then and there as she looked at the children, and they smiled at her. "My only regret…" She said, "Is that I have nothing more to give you. But give me some time, and I will have enough gum and chocolate for all of you." "But how will we know it is you?" A young boy inquired. Gail thought, and then responded that she would wiggle the wings of her C-54 Skymaster when she approached the drop site. The children giggled in delight, at the thought of the four engine cargo plane wiggling its wings like that.

Gail heard her co-pilot Tricia calling her over to the mess hall, and turned to acknowledge her auburn haired partner, who was pulling her ponytail out from under the ATC hat. As Gail, Tricia, and their wavy, brunette haired flight engineer Rita sat around the table, Gail spoke up. "Hey girls, I know it sounds strange, but I want to do something nice for the children of East Berlin." "Really? And just what did you have in mind?" Rita the flight engineer asked eagerly. "Well, I've been talking to some of the other flight crews about it, and we're pooling our candy rations together. Tomorrow, we're going to drop the candy from our planes as we pass over the city, sending goodwill and sugary treats to the children below." Gail said triumphantly. "You can't just drop it." Patricia the copilot frowned. "Those chocolate bars are dense, they could hurt someone falling from a transport." "Well, we could take our silk handkerchiefs and make mini parachutes for the candy." Rita suggested. "Candy parachutes? You must be joking." Patricia chuckled. "Why not? It's worth a shot, and I'm sure others will support us." Gail smiled. "Oh, what the heck. These kids have been through a lot, let's cheer 'em up." Patricia smiled.

That night the three girls returned to their C-54, where they found their loadmaster and mechanic Evelyn waiting. The dark haired girl had her curly mess tied up with a red and white polka dotted kerchief, as she jerked a thumb towards the plane. "C'mon girls, let's get back to Brittania for the next wave." The girls climbed into their plane, began preflight checks, and waved to the Tempelhof controller as they took off into the morning sky. Once on the ground in Brittania, Gail began talking to other flight crews, asking them if they would help with the little operation. By the end of the day, Gail and her flight crew had gathered almost twenty pounds of chocolate and chewing gum, with enough kerchief parachutes for each of them. As their plane was loaded up with flour and medical supplies by the ground crew, Evelyn managed to fit the pallet of candy into the plane along with the relief aid. She thought back to an earlier conversation with Col. Halverson. _"Just how are we going to drop all of this candy off without approval? It's not on the cargo manifest, after all." Evelyn asked in despair. "Don't worry."_ Gail responded. _"We'll attach the parachutes to each bar of chocolate and package of gum, and we'll drop them out the flare chutes in the cargo hold."_ Evelyn knew all too well that the flare chutes were used to drop bundles of tin foil, a method used to confuse early missile tracking systems. But now they were going to use it for dropping candy? "I've always known Gail to be a compassionate person, but honestly we could get court martialed for smuggling and redistributing government rations…" Evelyn said to herself, but shrugged and continued loading up.

In the dark of night they took off once more for Tempelhof, and by the time they had reached the outskirts of Berlin, it was already daybreak. Gail began their approach into East Berlin, and was calculating their glide slope just as she spotted a small group of people near the fence. A smile crept across her face, as she radioed Evelyn on the intercom and began wiggling the wings of the airplane, gently banking back and forth. "Hey Eve, we're almost there. I'm sending Tricia back there to help you drop the candy now." "No sweat. I've just spent the whole ride making candy parachutes, just so you know." Evelyn said jovially. As they were on final for landing and the flaps were extended, Tricia and Evelyn began dropping candy parachutes, one at a time, out of the flare chutes and down to the children of East Berlin. Hundreds of tiny silk parachutes floated down to earth, carrying sugary treasures for the near thirty children waiting by the fence. The small cloud of goodwill descended upon East Berlin, just as the C-54 flew over the fence and touched down at Tempelhof. The children scrambled to collect their gifts, cheering gleefully as they picked up the parachutes and ran back to their bombed out homes and small families.

This secret operation carried on once every week, and grew in density and frequency as more and more servicemen learned of Halverson's mission. Letters from East Berliners began reaching Gail and her crew, addressed to "The Candy Bomber," "The Chocolate Bomber," and "Auntie Wiggly Wings." In the months to come, candy shipments began arriving at Tempelhof's Base Operations in growing frequency, all addressed to 'Auntie Wiggly Wings.' Word had reached the giants of the candy factories back in Liberion, who felt compassion for Berlin, as crates loaded with chocolate began landing by the hundreds. The operation had become bigger than anything Gail and her crewmates had ever imagined, and it all began with a chocolate bar and two sticks of gum. Soon they learned that a housewife in the states by the name of Dory had taken it upon herself to sew handkerchiefs, and raise donations along with her friends. The goodwill was really spreading around.

But word was spreading much quicker than Col. Halverson anticipated. One morning, as they were preparing another candy drop, Gail was asked to report to the Airlift Commander's office. She found herself standing before General William H. Tunner, and his stern expression was stone cold. Before Gail could explain, he broke the silence. "Colonel Abigail Halverson." He crossed his arms, reading a typed report from Base Operations. "You have been accused of smuggling government rations, unscheduled drops outside of Tempelhof, and unregulated, unauthorized use of Airlift Transport Command property." Gail hung her head in shame, and began to explain herself, before General Tunner stopped her. "…and I couldn't be more proud of you. If it weren't for letters like these…" He paused, pulling out a drawer full of letters and dumping them over his desk. "You might be in the detention center right now. Personally, I think it's a good idea, and other generals have agreed with me. We believe that the morale of East Berlin will reach untold heights by the end of the year, if this activity is allowed to continue. You have the support of ATC, the candy companies, and the Liberion people behind you." Gail stood there with her mouth gaping, unable to respond to General Tunner. "Well, what are you standing around for? Get out there and spread some cheer, 'Auntie Wiggly Wings.'" Tunner said jokingly, a smile cracking the stone cold expression of his face.

Halverson raced out onto the field as fast as her legs could carry her, smiling ear to ear as she approached the plane. "You seem a bit too happy for someone who just spoke with General Tunner." Tricia smirked. "He… He approves. We have the support of ATC and the rest of Liberion to continue." Gail smiled weakly, gasping for breath. "'Operation Little Vittles' is now an official part of the airlift." The girls cheered and group hugged, as another C-54 roared overhead. The 'Candy Bombers' even attracted the attention of the famed twenty-two year old Colonel Roberta Morgan, who was supposed to be enjoying her vacation from flying, but couldn't resist another opportunity to spread hope in the world. Roberta explained her enthusiasm to General Tunner by phone, and on the night of December 24th, 1948, she met with Halverson and her crew on in airstrip in southern Brittania. "Col. Morgan. It's a pleasure to meet you." Gail said with gratitude. "The pleasure is mine, Col. Halverson. What you're doing here, it's a great and noble cause, and I want to be a part of it. There is nothing greater than being a symbol of hope in a dark time." "But why now? You're supposed to be done flying with the Air Force…" Gail said worriedly. "Maybe I can't fly with my bomber units as well as before, but that doesn't affect my ability to fly a transport." Roberta grinned.

So on that morning, December 25th, 1948, Roberta, Gail, and a few other planes from the ATC began flying toward Berlin with almost eighteen tons of chocolate and chewing gum in their cargo holds. Roberta wasn't accustomed to flying a dedicated transport yet, and had taken a C-97 Stratofreighter as her choice of plane, a B-29 Superfortress modified for cargo. The C-54's and C-97 churned through the snowy air, on their way to spread goodwill and Christmas cheer to the East Berliners. As they approached Tempelhof and extended flaps, thousands of silk parachutes descended upon the families of East Berlin, spreading joy and hope to the burdened Karlslanders. People ran through the streets, jumping up and down, trying to catch the sugary treasures from the heavens. The adults were also touched by the generosity of the Liberions, and waved happily to the transports, as they wiggled their wings overhead.

When they landed at Tempelhof, a crowd of servicemen and reporters gathered around Halverson and Morgan, to take pictures of "The Candy Bombers." The story made it into the newspapers back home, of how a chocolate bar and two sticks of gum lead to eighteen tons of candy being dispensed from the heavens. Gail didn't know it at the time, but her simple act of goodwill would further strengthen the resolve of Berlin and the Karlslanders, ending the division of their beloved city. For Gail and her crew, there could be no sweeter ending to Christmas Day, 1948. The Airlift would continue until May of 1949, inspiring freedom and hope for the people of East Berlin.


	2. The Fight Before Christmas

**The Fight Before Christmas**

December 23rd, 1941

Attu Island, Alaska

It was a lightly snowing day on the frosted white island of Attu, in the Aleutian Island chain of Alaska. There was almost nothing for miles around, save for the native Aleut villages, a US naval base at Chichagof Harbor, and the radar station atop Moore Ridge. It was just a few weeks after that dreadful attack on Pearl, and the War Department in Washington was trying to establish a perimeter defense to guard the west coast from naval assault by the Neuroi. The prominent yet skeletal metal dishes scanned the arctic sky, waiting and watching for any sign of an enemy fleet. Even then, Attu was only a picket station at the time. The remainder of the US Navy was spread far and wide, in a desperate attempt to find the Neuroi carrier force, and avenge Pearl Harbor. For this reason, Attu was low priority on the list, and only had a few destroyers, and a small squadron of bomber witches on standby.

The witch squadron was a stopgap measure, since a proper runway had not yet been constructed on Attu. The squadron consisted of the young Thelma Cartwright, the young Pauline Tibbets, and the native Aleut pilot named Ila Yakone, who had fought alongside Captain Samantha Laddon in the attack on Pearl. Thelma and Pauline were fairly fresh from the naval Air Force academy, and their SBD-3 Dauntless dive bomber units had trouble adapting to the cold, much like their pilots. Ila was used to the cold weather, and flew proudly with her PV-2D Harpoon bomber units. They sat around in the radar station, playing cards and drinking hot cocoa in their parka coats.

"Straight! I win!" Thelma shouted, throwing her hand of cards onto the table.

"Not so fast," Pauline smirked. "Full House." She challenged, laying her cards down.

Ila grinned broadly, and laughed at both. "Amateurs. Royal Flush." She said, laying down her cards.

The other two girls threw up their hands in disgust as Ila's laugh echoed in the radar station. She was promptly shushed by the annoyed radar officers, who were busy leaning over their consoles with those cumbersome headsets.

"What's the big deal? There's nothing out here anyways." Thelma grumbled, picking up the cards. "We should be out hunting those juicy Neuroi carriers, not sitting in this nut house."

"That fleet could be anywhere since the attack on Pearl." Pauline sulked. "The navy is already spread thin trying to cover the Pacific… And unfortunately, the odds of them being picked up from here on Attu is, well… you'd have better luck trying to beat Tech Sgt. Yakone at cards…"

Just then, one of the radar officers called Ila over to his station. "Tech Sgt. Yakone, I think it might just be another iceberg, but I need you to verify for me."

"All this ice is enough to make anyone crazy sometimes." Ila shrugged, walking over. When she looked at the contact, it was apparent that the blip was moving steadily. Soon it was joined by other blips, in what looked like a formation. "Whoa whoa whoa, are those ships?" She asked, wide-eyed.

The radar officer pulled out an identification manual, and flipped rapidly through the pages. His finger stopped on page 97, as his heart sank. "The smaller ones are landing ships. And where there are landing ships…" He turned the book around to reveal the silhouettes of a fearsome Neuroi battleship, and a carrier.

"This is what we've been waiting for, our chance to sink the Neuroi in their tracks!" Ila brimmed with confidence.

"Uh, hello? We've got like, 2 Clemson class destroyers, and us. I don't know if you've been around lately, but the War Dept. never expected to see ships in the Aleutians this soon." Thelma said, attempting to munch on a piece of jerky.

"Girls, men even." Ila stood tall. "We were put here on a reason. If they continue, they'll be right on top of San Francisco by Christmas morning. And the civilians will wake up to see something far worse than Santa's sleigh in their backyard."

"I admire your bravado, Tech Sgt." Pauline said. "But we need to inform Washington and await orders."

"Orders, orders." Ila trailed off. "In my village, I was taught how to be a hunter. If you go out there and you hesitate in the moment of truth, you've already lost."

"Well, Einstein." Thelma snorted. "Tell us how you plan to destroy a Neuroi fleet?"

Ila thought long and hard, pacing the cold concrete floor. Suddenly, her ears perked up. "San Francisco has a harbor defense command, does it not?"

"Well, yes. Those boys have never fired at a real ship before, though." The radar officer said.

"They have 16-inch guns in Battery Townsley and Battery Davis, no?" Ila pressed.

"Yes, but again, those boys have never fired at a live target before." The officer repeated his statement.

"What have we got to lose? Call up San Francisco Harbor Defense Command, and fuel the bomber units. We leave immediately." Ila said, walking out into the snow.

Soon the girls were in the air, and quickly approaching San Francisco. Thelma and Pauline's SBD units struggled to warm up, while Ila had no problem getting her PV-2D nice and toasty. "Those SBD units need a tune up. They'll never survive the war like that." She called over the radio.

"Don't worry, we'll have much bigger bomber units than yours someday." Pauline said flatly.

"I wouldn't count on it." Ila laughed.

"So, what exactly is our plan, anyways?" Thelma shivered.

"Battery Townsley and Battery Davis guard the northern and southern approaches to the harbor mouth, each one having two 16-inch rifles, which were originally intended for our battleships until the Washington Naval Treaty was signed. They can hit anything approaching from long range, and can even pierce most battleship armor. Even if they get close, the Neuroi still must navigate a minefield around the harbor mouth. If they get into the channel, Battery Rathbone-McIndoe and Battery Chamberlain are equipped with 6-inch rifles on M1903 disappearing carriages. They can load, aim, fire, and disappear within 30 seconds. There a few batteries scattered around the Golden Gate Bridge too. The only real issue is anti-air defense. If they have a carrier with an air group, the coastal defenses only have a couple of 76mm and 90mm anti-aircraft guns scattered around."

"Where do we come in?" Pauline prodded.

"We will attack them from the rear, and chase them right into the gun range of Townsley and Davis. The carrier USS Saratoga is docked in the harbor as well, if you need to re-arm. After that, provide air cover while the coastal artillery cleans house." Ila commanded.

December 24th, 1941

It wasn't even sunrise when the girls made landfall, and Ila contacted the harbor defense command. "San Francisco HDC, do you copy?"

"This is Captain McAllister, Harbor Defenses, we read you loud and clear." The captain said. "We see the enemy ships, they will be in range of Battery Townsley in 5 minutes, and Battery Davis in 7 minutes. No changes in course." He paused. "I never thought the war would come this far, but maybe we can prove our worth today. McAllister out."

The Neuroi fleet was in perfect formation, when the Witches dove out of the clouds. Ila had her bombsight trained on the aft flight deck of the carrier, as Thelma aimed for midship and Pauline the forward flight deck. Their bombs struck true, resulting in a spectacular explosion as the carrier was illuminated by fireballs.

"Direct hit! Aircraft contained!" Thelma cheered. "Enemy steering gears damaged as well!"

"For now." Pauline noted, as the carrier began to regenerate armor.

"Looks like we've got their attention, watch that flak, girls!" Ila shouted, as lasers and flak flew past them.

The girls raced to San Francisco, just as the lead cruiser entered Battery Townsley's range. The mighty 16-inch guns trained skyward, but did not fire. The gunners looked intently at Captain McAllister.

"What the hell are we waiting for? This is our chance to be heroes!" One of the gunners complained.

"Wait for Battery Davis. If the Neuroi continue their approach, we'll catch them in a crossfire. If you fire now, they'll mark our positions, turn to the north, and pick us off one by one. This requires teamwork, since we don't get the luxury of maneuvering…" He growled, as the gunner held fire.

No sooner had the lead cruiser entered Battery Davis' range, when the radio sprang to life. "Battery Davis, target acquired."

"Fire." McAllister's cold voice rumbled.

The behemoth guns recoiled almost a foot into the bunker, throwing dust everywhere as a violent roar split the peaceful air of San Francisco bay. The muzzle flash from Townsley and Davis was enough to illuminate the whole coastline for a moment, as the 406mm armor piercing shells screamed through the air. Davis' rounds straddled the enemy battleship, throwing columns of water twenty feet into the air. Townsley's projectiles pierced right through the armored belt, penetrating the battleship's citadel as a tremendous fire bloomed from the smokestacks.

The bomber witches flew over Battery Townsley, noting the exhaust that billowed from the gun barrels. As they approached USS Saratoga to rearm and refuel, they were contacted by the carrier.

"This is Captain Harry Yarnell of USS Saratoga. What's going on out there?" The captain demanded.

"This is Tech Sgt. Ila Yakone, callsign 'Attu Warrior,' San Francisco HDC is currently engaging a Neuroi landing force." Ila replied. "We are running low on fuel and need to rearm our munitions, requesting permission to land."

"Roger that Attu Warrior. Had we known, we would've intercepted them before they could get in range. Our ship was damaged in the disaster at Wake Island by a torpedo attack, so we've just been sitting idly here." He paused for a moment. "But maybe this is a chance to redeem our reputation. You're cleared to land, I'll scramble our Baker and Able squadron to cover the harbor airspace."

"Copy that Captain Yarnell. Attu Warrior out." Ila said.

The girls had just begun to land on Saratoga, as Batteries Townsley and Davis fired another salvo. Several civilians came running down to the harbor, still in their pajamas and slippers. When they saw the mighty 16-inch guns raining fire on the Neuroi landing force, they cheered with glee. Captain Yarnell saw the civilians crowding around the dock, and deployed the onboard marine force to secure the perimeter.

"The last thing we need is civilians getting hurt." He told the marines, as they formed a barricade around the pedestrian entrances.

Even as Townsley and Davis had set the enemy battleship ablaze, the smaller destroyers and landing ships attempted to maneuver the minefield at the harbor mouth. The lead destroyer plowed right into a line of naval mines, in a self-sacrifice to let the five landing ships pass through. Each one was laden with four crab-type Neuroi tanks, and at least a hundred of the humanoid shaped infantry units. They rumbled into the second defensive line, just as Battery Rathbone-McIndoe confirmed their range. The 6-inch disappearing mounts popped up over the concrete wall, like gophers on Groundhog Day.

Just then, a new voice came over the radio. "This is Gunnery Sgt. Appleton, opening fire."

The 6-inch guns opened fire, using the recoil force to push the guns back behind the wall, disappearing completely. Their 152mm shells pierced the lead landing ship in the port side, as it began listing heavily into the water. Their salvo was complemented by Battery Chamberlain, just across the channel. Another volley of 6-inch shells rained into the second landing ship, destroying the steering gears as it careened into the lead ship, and they both capsized. By this point, the Neuroi had realized where the gun mounts where, and returned fire. A pair of 5-inch high explosive shells landed in the gun pits of Battery Rathbone-McIndoe, destroying one of the gun mounts and killing its crew.

Soon the Neuroi carrier had put out the fire, and launched a wave of dive bombers against Rathbone-McIndoe. The deadly arrow-shaped craft strafed the gun pits with laser fire, dropping bombs into the gunnery mounts.

"This is Gunnery Sgt. Appleton! Enemy air elements have attacked my position! I'm down to two operational guns! For Christ's sake, get some air support in here!" He cried.

"Roger that Appleton, this is Captain Yarnell of USS Saratoga. The Bomber Witches are inbound, with Baker Flight and Able Flight flanking them. Just sit tight."

"I don't think I have much of a choice!" He shouted, as another bomb fell on top of the bunker, throwing concrete fragments everywhere.

Able Flight swooped in with their F4F Wildcats, slotting in behind the Neuroi dive bombers as the .50 caliber guns ravenously chewed up the targets. They continued to engage the bombers, as Baker Flight's TBD Devastator's followed the Bomber Witches. Ila fired a few of her 5-inch HVAR rockets into the third landing craft, as it cracked open like a volcanic fissure. Thelma and Pauline nailed the remaining LST's with their 1000lb dive bombs, eliminating the threat of amphibious invasion.

It was then that Captain McAllister's voice came over the radio. "Attention all friendly bombers! The enemy battleship has exited our firing arc! She's driving right down the channel for a last stand! You've got to sink that thing before it gets in range of Saratoga! We'll deal with the carrier!" McAllister panicked.

Ila looked ahead, as the fearsome dreadnought charged right through the minefield, undeterred by the extensive damage received from coastal defenses. Even as flames poured from the smokestacks, it maintained course and speed like an angry bear. Battery Chamberlain opened fire, but the 6-inch shells bounced harmlessly off the armor belt. Baker Flight couldn't drop their torpedoes in shallow water, and flew ahead to attack the enemy carrier. Ila searched anxiously for an answer, her head panning around the harbor. Then, her gaze rested on the Golden Gate Bridge. A dreadful idea crossed her mind, as she cautiously contacted Captain McAllister.

"Tech Sgt. Yakone, please tell me you're not serious…!" Captain McAllister roared.

"What choice do we have left?" Captain Yarnell objected. "The 6-inch batteries are just pea-shooters against that thing's armor."

"I'm sorry Captain McAllister." Ila said. "It's the bridge, or all our vessels in the harbor."

"Do you have any idea how far we'll be set back in merchant shipping? Did you even consider that Saratoga will be stuck here until the bridge is raised and repaired?!" McAllister fumed.

"Better to be moored here than at the bottom of the harbor." Yarnell concluded, stroking his chin. "I approve the attack, Tech Sgt. Yakone."

"Roger that." Ila nodded. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"You can't be serious…!" McAllister wept, as he sank to his knees in defeat.

The battleship was about to pass under the Golden Gate Bridge, as thick oily smoke billowed from end to end of the accursed vessel. Ila hovered atop the bridge, waiting for just the right moment, until the ship's smokestacks were directly underneath the bridge.

"Father, please give me strength…" Ila said, a tear running down her face as she looked skyward. An aurora appeared in the skies above San Francisco Harbor, with intensely prismatic light waves, as Ila retrieved a K-Bar knife from her side holster. The blade was inscribed with native Aleut writings from her father, who was the previous owner of the knife. The very same knife he had used to protect his daughter from wild animals, when she was but a young child. But her father was gone, and the knife was now the only heirloom she had left of him. Ila wiped her tears, attaching the blade to her Browning M2 in a bayonet configuration.

"POLARIS!" She yelled out, her eyes gleaming with killing intent. Her speed and mobility increased tremendously, as she began slicing through the bridge supports and suspension cables. The mighty Golden Gate Bridge groaned, as the main beams shifted, and began to fall. The high-tension wires and steel supports came crashing down, bludgeoning through the boiler room and core of the battleship. The bow of the ship rose into the air, as the midsection split, and the vessel sank slowly into the harbor waters. The core shattered from the combination of battle damage and the water pressure, as the hull disintegrated into snowy flecks.

Simultaneously, the Devastators were returning from their torpedo run. They had left the enemy carrier with multiple hull breaches, despite a few losses, and Battery Townsley fired the killing blow into the carrier's citadel. The 16-inch round pierced the red hexagonal core, and the ship shattered like a glass window pane.

When the dust had cleared, Thelma and Pauline saw Ila falling through the air, heading straight for the submerged bridge supports. They dove in to catch her, stopping the Aleut girl from being impaled. By the time Ila opened her eyes, the San Francisco harbor was lined with civilians, the police department, the fire department, the coast guard, and the marine force from USS Saratoga. Despite the loss of several artillery gunners, navy pilots, and the Golden Gate Bridge, the throng of people let out a cheer that shook the city.

The girls touched down on Saratoga's deck, as Captain Yarnell came down to greet them. Ila managed to open her eyes and sit upright, as he walked over.

"You girls have got some spunk. With pilots like you, I'm certain we can win this war." Yarnell smiled. "Don't let McAllister frighten you, he let his overconfidence get the best of him. He saw his chance at glory, but misjudged his capabilities."

"So, what happens now?" Ila groaned.

"Don't worry about the bridge. We can always rebuild things like that. Remember, these people built the Saratoga in just five years." Yarnell chuckled. "Besides, I don't think the civilians mind. You hear that cheering? That's the sound of life, one of the best gifts anyone could have on Christmas Eve. The harbor is safe, there were no civilian casualties. Hold your heads high."

"I guess we… saved Christmas then?" Thelma said inquisitively.

"I suppose. The Bomber Witches who saved Christmas." Pauline giggled.

"Easy there, we were just doing our jobs." Ila coughed. "Just another day for the Bomber Witches."

The group laughed, as the harbor defense crews cheered from the gun pits, and the civilians sang Christmas carols in the streets.

Later, when the girls flew back to Attu, they found a dark green, bristly thing inside the radar station, decorated with red and gold ornaments. As it turned out, the people of San Francisco were overjoyed by the Bomber Witches heroics, that they bought the girls a rather large Christmas tree, and several gifts to put underneath it. However, it was bent by the comparatively low ceiling. Still, it was a welcome gift, as the girls rejoiced and sang Christmas carols with the radar crew.


End file.
